


Coming Home

by WardenSabrae



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gender-Neutral Hawke, Longing, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:40:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22260472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenSabrae/pseuds/WardenSabrae
Summary: Fenris trusts Hawke. Fenris trusts Varric, for the most part. But for all the good deeds and remarks surrounding them and their name, Fenris doe not trust the Inquisition. He didn’t know anything about Inquisitor Lavellan beyond her name. Was she a competent leader? Was she the kind to strive for minimal casualties? If there were, Maker forbid, an ultimatum involving Hawke would the Inquisitor save the Champion or someone else?Foolish thoughts, perhaps, but they were the thoughts now plaguing his mind.
Relationships: Fenris/Hawke (Dragon Age)





	Coming Home

* * *

Fenris was not happy.

Generally speaking, he hadn’t been happy in years, not since the chaos that was Kirkwall and the fallout between all of them afterwards. He wouldn’t admit out loud to missing most of them, and a couple of them he'd be fine with never seeing again, but for all their obvious flaws the fact remained that they’d all been together for almost a decade, and shaking off all those years of companionship wasn’t as easy as Fenris would like, no matter what some of them had done.

But Fenris wasn’t dwelling on all of them, at least not right now. Their absence was noted, and fine, maybe it was felt everyday, but the loss of his former companions simply paled in comparison to the emptiness in him that Hawke's absence had left behind.

Hawke.. Always running off to play the damned hero.

Fenris didn’t want to resent it, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. After all they’d gone through in Kirkwall, after all the sweat and blood they’d shed to finally take down Meredith and free all those damned mages, Fenris thought the last thing Hawke would’ve wanted was to run right back into another battle. But barely a few years had gone by and now the love of his life was rushing headfirst back into the danger.

But honestly, the worst part was that this time Hawke had left _everyone_ behind.

Fenris understood Hawke’s need to face down Corypheus again, if only to make sure that the blighted creature was truly dead this time. He understood that Hawke wasn’t the type of person to ignore a request for help from a friend, especially when that friend was Varric, but he just didn’t understand Hawke’s insistence on going at it alone. Surely Fenris wouldn’t be any worse off staying at Skyhold than he had been in Kirkwall, but Hawke had been vehement about leaving him behind, and nearly every conversation about it had escalated into an argument until finally, Hawke was practically begging Fenris to stay away.

So, he did. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t understand Hawke’s reasoning, but he would respect it. No more than a month, Hawke had said the morning they went their separate ways. One month, Fenris had agreed, and if Hawke wasn’t by his side again in that time then he was heading to Skyhold, protests and obstacles be damned.

But waiting an entire month sounded much better as words than it felt as an action. The days crept by at a frustratingly slow pace and each night Fenris went to sleep, worried and angry, only to wake a few hours later and stare at the empty half of the bed, aching to feel Hawke beside him again.

He almost envied the others. While it was clear that none of them liked having to go their separate ways at least they had something to do, with Isabela commanding on the sea again, and Merrill helping to rebuild the lives the elves of Kirkwall had lost. He didn’t know where Aveline had taken Anders and Bethany, but it was at least a relief to Hawke to know that they were both as safe as a Grey Warden could be right now. Varric, of course, was with Hawke, and in that matter Fenris couldn’t ignore the touch of spite he felt towards the dwarf.

Varric was trying to make amends for the mistakes he’d made, some imagined and some true, but he was also the only person in Thedas that could sway Hawke's opinions and decisions so easily, and it was Varric’s unexpected letter that took Hawke away from Fenris in the first place. They were all fighting a war, but those two were at least fighting side by side, seeing each other as frequently as they once had while meanwhile, all Fenris could do was wait..

But, as the elf quickly learned, waiting around doing nothing didn’t help. Waiting would only lead to a wandering mind, and when Hawke’s location and status were so unknown, a wandering mind led to fear and horrible thoughts that would do nothing but eat away at him until he either worked himself up into a panic or did something stupid. Since ‘doing something stupid’ was usually Hawke’s specialty, Fenris slowly forced the negative thoughts from his mind and chose instead to keep himself busy.

Varric’s letters always seemed to find him no matter where he went, and with their home so unbearably quiet without Hawke around, Fenris went hunting.

There never seemed to be a shortage of Tevinter slavers around, especially these days, and though Fenris wasn’t a fan of their steady numbers he was, admittedly, grateful for the distractions they gave him. He’d spent the last few weeks traveling along the Ferelden shores, carving through the slaver camps and leading their rescued victims away from the hostile territories, all the while trying not to dwell on Hawke’s absence but still unable to stop himself from perking up every time he heard a crow crying out above him.

Days passed. No letters came, no more slavers polluted the area, and so finally Fenris went home.

The month was almost over, Fenris realizes one evening as he attempts to light a particularly stubborn fire and get some semblance of a dinner going, but it had also been more than two weeks since he’d last received a letter from Hawke, assuring Fenris that everyone was still alive, that the battles were going smoothly, that Cullen sent his love and a strongly worded scolding about ‘you elves always being barefoot’ (Fenris still isn’t sure if that was a joke or not). But the letter ended with Hawke’s announcement that they were taking the fight to some magister in the Western Approach, and since then, nothing.

Fenris trusts Hawke. Fenris trusts Varric, for the most part. But for all the good deeds and remarks surrounding them and their name, Fenris doe not trust the Inquisition. He didn’t know anything about Inquisitor Lavellan beyond her name. Was she a competent leader? Was she the kind to strive for minimal casualties? If there were, Maker forbid, an ultimatum involving Hawke would the Inquisitor save the Champion or someone else? Foolish thoughts, perhaps, but they were the thoughts now plaguing his mind.

With an angry huff, the failed fire is eventually abandoned and Fenris retreats back to the cold bedroom, dark thoughts swirling in his mind and an aching in his chest as he slumps down onto the unmade bed, which is now devoid of any scent or lingering warmth that Hawke had left behind.

He misses Hawke terribly, he's scared for Hawke's safety, and he's so torn between wanting to hear from Skyhold and dreading a possible letter that would condemn him to a life of solitude and heartbreak. He hates not knowing, and he hates the tears that are stinging his eyes as he buries his face into his pillow, muffling his noises of fear and frustration. He should’ve never stayed behind, he should’ve never agreed to wait an entire month before following after Hawke, he should’ve never-

He hears the crow moments before he sees it from the corner of his eye, a flash of red and black passing by the closed window as it apparently searches for a way to enter the house.

Fenris blinks, already on his feet before he even fully processes the sight of the crow. He exits the bedroom in a few quick strides and heads towards the open window of the dining room, where the crow is now perched and waiting, but his pace falters when he sees that, while it's definitely one of the Inquisition’s birds, it carried no envelope.

The bird flaps it’s wings as he approaches, looking irritable and a little haggard, but Fenris ignores the screeching creature as he looks over the table, then under it, and then along the windowsill, becoming more agitated with each passing second that he fails to see a new letter.

Had the fool bird dropped it? They weren’t trained to deliver nothing so that made no sense, but if not then where was the damned thing? Fenris scowls, looking up at the bird and then around the area again, a sudden sinking feeling in his chest as he starts to wonder what sort of news the letter was supposed to bring him. Had this feathered rat not shown up with nothing to reassure him that Hawke was safe and coming home, or at the very least not dead, or anything-?

“Fenris.”

It’s been years since the sound of his own name made him freeze up.

Fenris swallows, hesitating only a moment as he feels a warmth slowly pooling in his chest before he turns around, his gaze landing on the familiar figure standing in the front doorway.

_Hawke._

Hawke is there. Hawke is standing before him, in their home. Hawke looks utterly filthy and exhausted, and Fenris can see some scratches and scars that definitely weren’t there before, but that doesn’t matter because Hawke is home. Hawke is alive and standing in front of him and.. holding a letter.

Seeing his gaze suddenly drop to the envelope Hawke flashes him a sheepish smile, waving it briefly and tossing it onto the nearby table after stepping forward to start closing the distance between them.

“Corypheus and his Red Templars have a knack for throwing off a well-planned schedule.” Hawke says, giving Fenris a soft, familiar smile that has a scorching heat spreading rapidly through the elf’s body. “Adamant was chaos. A victory for us, but still chaos, and the fight’s not over but.. I decided this message was important enough to deliver myself.”

“It would appear so..” Fenris replies, nearly trembling from the effort it’s taking not to throw himself at Hawke, since he still hasn’t decided if it would be followed with a kiss or a punch. Maybe both, knowing the pair of them. “So tell me, since you came all this way.. What was the message?”

Hawke smiles again, eyes lighting up, and Fenris barely has a second to take the sight in before Hawke has closed the rest of the distance between them, grasping Fenris’ face and pulling him into a dizzying kiss. Fenris immediately grips Hawke’s arms, both to keep himself up and to assure himself that he wasn’t imagining his love’s return before he returns the kiss with vigor. 

Hawke’s hands drop from Fenris’ face to his hips, and Fenris can’t stifle the whimper that escapes him as Hawke pulls him closer, feeling as warm and firm against Fenris’ body as ever, and he’s lost count of how much time has passed before Hawke finally draws back, eyes hooded and face flushed as they both lean forward to nuzzle their foreheads together, taking a moment to catch their breath and just bask in the fact that they’re together again, that they’re both alive, and both knowing that the Maker himself would have to be the one to rip them apart once more.

“I’m coming home,” Hawke whispers, answering the question that Fenris had nearly forgotten, and Fenris just huffs before pulling Hawke into another kiss, and for the rest of the night their problems are forgotten, overshadowed by the fact that they’re both with the love of their life once more.

* * *


End file.
